


It's Always the Janitor's Closet (Insert Joke Here)

by andimeantittosting (Saylee)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 200th Episode Speculation, F/F, M/M, Multi, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 10 Speculation, Season/Series 10 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2308748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/pseuds/andimeantittosting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While hunting a ghost in an all-girls high school, Dean discovers two of the leads of Supernatural: The Musical in an unexpected position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always the Janitor's Closet (Insert Joke Here)

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on spoilers and speculation about the upcoming 200th episode, with some liberties taken for the sake of the plot.

It wasn't exactly a cure, but it was working for now. They'd experimented with various doses before getting it right, and while there was nothing exactly normal about shooting up your best friend's blood, Dean felt more like himself than he had since the beginning of this whole demon fiasco. It turned out that having a little bit of Castiel's grace pumping through his veins - and, no, Dean was not touching that one with a ten-foot pole - calmed the drive towards murder and mayhem, enough to make him more of a help than a liability on this little ghost hunt.

It wasn't however, quite enough to stem the restless itch in his bones, urging him to get this hunt over and done with, though that could have been the sheer weirdness of watching a bunch of teenage girls put on a musical, of all things, about his life. Did he look like a musical kind of guy?

"I think it's more of a rock opera," Sam had said, poking around backstage with an EMF reader, and generally getting his long limbs in the way as Dean hammered together bits of the backdrop - sue him, set construction gave him an in to look for their spirit.

"Whatever the hell that means. It's still weird, Sammy. Who the fuck sings and dances about the Apocalypse?" He gestured with his hammer towards a piece of wood. "Hand me that bit of the Roadhouse, will you?"

And that had been that, at least until Sam had left, presumably to interview more witnesses, and Dean had been set to put together the sign for Singer Salvage, and, yeah, that wasn't happening. So he'd carefully laid aside his tools, and checking his gun was tucked safely into his waistband, he'd slipped past the drama teacher, who, along with a tall girl who he was pretty sure was playing Sam, seemed to be frantically looking for the show's other leads, and out the door.

The hallways of the school were deserted, everyone who wasn't involved in the play having left for the night, and it was the work of moments to unlock the doors of the empty classrooms and teacher's lounge to peer inside for signs of the ghost. As he passed the janitor's closet, he heard a noise - a thump? A muffled giggle? He crept closer, listening. That was definitely a rustling noise.

He tried the knob. Unlocked. He eased the door open and then stopped, mouth agape. Well, at least that explained the missing actors.

Emily, one of the girls he had interviewed yesterday, was clad in a beige trenchcoat, and had another girl pressed up against the metal shelves, and, while it wasn't clear who, someone definitely had their tongue down someone's throat. He stared, unable to tear his eyes away, because, sure, he'd been caught making out in a janitor's closet a time or two in high school, but something about this was just -

A soft cough sounded behind him, and he could see Sam's bitchface without even turning around. "Gross Dean," his brother groused, "They're, like, seventeen."

"Dude." Dean finally managed to turn away to shoot him a glare, "It's not like that at all."

"Oh yeah?" No one should be able to contain that much judgement in one raised eyebrow, "Then why don't you tell me what it is about, Dean?"

Dean fumbled for words. "It's just - it's - well, look, Emily there's supposed to be playing Cas, isn't she?" he hissed.

"Well, yeah."

He waved a hand at the girls, who continued oblivious, and enthusiastic. There was definitely a hand up a shirt now. "And the other one, what's her name? She's supposed to be me."

"You mean Megan? Yeah. So?"

"What do you mean, so?" Dean crossed his arms. "It's weird."

Pulling Dean away from the door, Sam tugged it shut, giving Emily and Megan some privacy. "You met those LARPers, they were a couple and they were playing you and me, and you weren't _this_ fazed."

Dean scowled. "Yeah, well, I've never wanted to kiss you like that."

Sam's smirk was second only to Crowley in smugness, "So, what? You do want to, to Cas?"

Dean gaped at his brother for a moment before he remembered to snap his mouth shut. "Shut up, Samantha." He turned away. "And get your ass in gear. We've got a ghost to catch." Because it didn't matter that he'd thought about Cas's mouth one too many times, or that Cas's blood in his veins felt like a warm hug, or that he was pretty freaking sure he was in love with the angel. It didn't matter.

He strode down the hall, away from his brother.

"You know," and damn Sam's freakishly long legs for allowing him to catch up and keep pace with him, "There's nothing wrong with -"

Dean had never been so happy to be jumped by a ghost.


End file.
